


sentimental trick

by orphan_account



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Canon Universe, M/M, Possibly Unrequited Love, post-disbandment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:53:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29548896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "Did you know that I used to be in love with you?"
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 8
Kudos: 46





	sentimental trick

**Author's Note:**

> so, as i procrastinate on my longer fics, i would like to share this little story i whipped up. 
> 
> thank you to **k** for listening to me rant about this, and an always thanks to **g** for being my minsung brainrot enabler.
> 
> enjoy!

HE REALLY SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER. 

To Jisung, the word optimism has become a euphemism for the word fool. A fool for hoping there will be better days, for throwing coins in wishing wells when it's a waste of money, for crying alone in a dark room, expecting the scream to reach _someone._ When he was younger, he fueled himself on the concept of optimism, attempting to live each day with as much positivity as he could muster. Eventually, this would lead to him crashing down by the end of the day, when the moon hung itself high in the night sky and hovered over the twinkling lights of the city. 

Then, this cycle would continue: his optimism skyrocketed him to happiness, then suffocated him down into the chasm of the unknown. All he could wish for was that each divot was slightly better than the last.

If he were to plot his emotions on a graph, he supposes it would resemble a peak of mountains drifting off into the distance. One high. One low. Another peak. Another trough. Then, yet another high, the highest it’s ever peaked—analogous to Mount Everest in the Himalayas—and then, yet another low. Except this time, the low doesn’t dip as low. But there is no use in sugar coating it, because nonetheless, it is a low. 

JISUNG SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER.

For all the highs and lows he has had over the years, he’d grown accustomed staying in the middle range for safety. Gone were the days of him idly dreaming about the concept of pure _happiness,_ for pure happiness was something that not many people were able to achieve in their lifetime. Instead, he settled on something closer to _contentment,_ where he didn’t need to be happy all of the time (people who were happy all of the time most definitely were faking it), but he could be satisfied with whatever life brought his way.

This wasn’t always the case, but there was a definite shift from happiness to contentment, somewhere he can’t be bothered to pinpoint. Perhaps he’s gotten too comfortable with his life, too satisfied but far too late to realize that he wasn’t satisfied at all. 

Case in point: 

If Jisung had to pick two people that he was the closest to out of all his ex-members, he would pick Minho as the first, without a doubt. That wasn’t to be unexpected either; he supposes that nobody—neither a member nor a fan—would be surprised. The second place would likely go to Changbin, but even as he ponders the thought, there’s a twinge of guilt bubbling up in the pit of his stomach. Because if Changbin, then why not Chan? And if Chan, then why not Hyunjin? And if Hyunjin, then why not—he could go on, iterating each member’s name until he’s reached the end. But it’s been several years since he’s been out of Stray Kids, finished his career as an idol, and decided to begin producing full time at a smaller agency, who liked the name and the reputation that Jisung came with. He doubts that any of his former colleagues would care to feel envious about his personal friendship rankings; that chapter of his life is done. It’s over

The point being, that he was good friends with Minho. _Best_ friends, even, because they were constantly attached at the hip, even during their breaks, during their free time, during their time back at the dorm. Even after they had disbanded, Minho and Jisung had found an apartment together, becoming roommates and reminiscing the days of their shared cohabitation lifestyles (even if their apartment had been missing six other people). While Jisung was producing and writing for two idol groups—one fairly well-established in the industry, the other having just confirmed their debut date—Minho found himself a job at a dance company, instructing and occasionally choreographing for concerts and tours. 

Their work lives ended once they left their respective offices, and each night, Jisung would come home to dinner (which was, more often than not, takeout from the restaurant down the street), Minho, and a drama playing on their television screen. He relished in this routine; there was nothing more that he could’ve asked for, except—

Just, except.

During their years in an idol group together, Jisung had never once seen Minho in a relationship. Sure, there had been hook-ups with other idols and strangers, ones that Jisung would make sure to tease Minho about the next morning. But whenever anyone, even so much, _suggested_ the idea of dating to Minho, he would wrinkle his nose and look in the opposite direction. All the numbers he would receive at the broadcasting station would be promptly torn and thrown away into the nearest trash can. All of the attention and flirting he got from strangers—which had been an exorbitant amount, because Minho is objectively, very good-looking—had been shut down without any attempts at reciprocation. 

And that’s fine, really. To each their own, but Jisung, at the time, did not share the same sentiment that Minho did. He dated plenty of people—girls and guys alike—all kept well under wraps, but wasted no time jumping from fling to fling, person to person, relationship to relationship. 

To say that he had never pondered the idea of dating Minho would be a lie he couldn’t tell. Of course he had. It was a thought that kept him up at night, at first just an experimental one. Then, the songs he wrote suddenly began to have Minho as his background muse, the image of him sweetly smiling while he sang the words that Jisung penned as constant motivation. He imagined that Minho would be a good boyfriend if he would just _try_ —attentive, caring, yet still snarky enough to keep someone on their toes—but he never let his thoughts pass an invisible boundary. It was too much, too soon, something he could never fulfill as long as the circumstances were the way that they were. 

Once they began to live together, Jisung ceased dating. He knew it was counterintuitive: when he was under a strict dating ban, all he wanted to do was date. When he wasn’t, he no longer had the itching desire to. Possibly, it’s another iteration of _you always want what you can’t have._ But the fact of the matter was that he had grown _comfortable._ He had Minho waiting for him with open arms at home, with food waiting on the table and a television show waiting on the screen. Was it a crime to let his mind wander again, to maybe let himself believe that this wasn’t just him? That Minho had felt something between them too, something that they could never act on in the past? But it was the present now, no more of the restrictive bullshit blocking their true desires. So was this the final outcome, resulting from the years of history behind them?

Jisung should have known that things never go the way he wants them to. 

This restaurant was Minho’s choice, but Jisung has to admit, it’s an elegant affair. It’s decorated with elaborate fake plant structures, wooden branches spanning across the entirety of the room. The ceilings are leveled, engraved with artwork inspired by some European country he can’t quite name. But it’s the tables that complete the ambiance: white tablecloth, red velvet cushioned chairs, ornamental candles in a gold, or gold plated, candle holder. He’s not unfamiliar with this sort of place; he had been a moderate celebrity at his peak, but this is no celebratory dinner with a group of eight men after an album release. 

This feels like a date. 

Minho sits opposite of him, dressed in a pristine gray button down. He looks like he belongs here, a permanent statue that brings in customers even for a glimpse, with his hair pushed off of his face, only several strands falling softly over his forehead and eyes. Minho was never one for jewelry like Jisung, but he has one ring on his index finger. It’s a gold band with cutouts, and it matches the one that Jisung wears, also gold. Also a band with cutouts. Also on his index finger, because they had gotten these rings almost six years ago to signify their long lasting friendship. And right next to that ring sits another one resting on both of their middle fingers—a thin gold band with a singular ruby in the middle—representing their totally deep, super emotional, always on the same wavelength but also totally platonic feelings for each other because—

So really, he should have known. 

He was always somewhat in love with Minho. 

He had just been too scared to admit it. 

And now, he’ll never have the chance to either.

It had been a year after living together, when they were both off of work for the weekend. Minho brought home a pack of soju, green grape flavored because it was Jisung’s favorite (even though Jisung _knew_ Minho liked apple flavor more _)_ , and put a romantic office drama on. They sat there for the remainder of the night, guffawing at how both the male and female protagonists kept missing the chance to explain their feelings to each other. How misfortunate they were, to just be a meter or two apart, but still constantly struggling to untangle the knots that they were the root cause of. It wasn’t supposed to be a laughing matter—the drama itself had a dark and solemn undertone—but they couldn’t help themselves.

After the first few episodes had ended, Jisung was beginning to feel drowsy, but not quite enough to lug himself off of the sofa and into his bedroom. Instead, he kept his head pressed against the back cushion and watched Minho from the side as he took another swig from his soju bottle. This he remembers vividly, almost too vivid for his own well-being. How Minho had seemingly glowed in the dark, his skin flushed red from the consumption of alcohol, and the light from the television screen pouring over his features. This he remembers, and this is how he came to the realization that he was in love, no, had _been_ in love with Minho for an embarrassing amount of time.

The alcohol flowing through his veins gave him an excuse, opened up his mind to the possibility of Minho. Not just as a fleeting thought, not just as a scenario he had dreamt up in his head with no plans to act. No, he was going to confess in their living room, right here, right now. Because Minho deserved to know that he deserved to be loved one day, and Jisung wanted Minho to know that _he_ could be the one loving him, as long as Minho wanted him to.

He opened his mouth to speak, with his throat and mouth dry, but he was not turning back.

That was, until Minho spoke first.

“Hey Jisungie,” Minho said, poking one of his cheeks. Jisung swatted his hand away, which elicited several snickers from Minho before he spoke again. “Do you want to know a fun fact?”

For Minho, a fun fact was something like, _did you know that there’s enough DNA in our bodies to stretch from the Sun to Pluto seventeen times?_ Or maybe, _did you know that there’s a species of jellyfish out there that are immortal?_ Jisung would shake his head, suppressing a smile because yes, he knew. _You literally watched the documentary with me, how could you forget about that?_

So he straightened himself up and anticipated a fun fact about polar bears or something similar—that had been the topic of the last documentary they watched together, a little over a month ago. What he didn’t expect was this:

“Did you know that I used to be in love with you?”

“What?” Jisung croaked out, his voice escaping him along with the rest of his breath.

“Yeah,” Minho nodded, staring Jisung directly in the eyes. “I used to be in love with you for a really long time. Like even before we debuted, when we were on that stupid reality show for the group. You know that one time we went to Namsan Tower, and we did those little love locks?”

Jisung nodded but had no verbal response, so Minho continued. 

“I swore I was going to confess to you then, but I chickened out last minute and I didn’t. And then everyone was always pressuring me into dating, like how Chan-hyung was constantly setting me up with people that he knew.” Minho let out a sigh and ruffled his hair with his fingers. “But I never dated because I was really in love with you, and I guess I was just holding out hope that we’d, you know, _be_ something eventually.”

“And then what?” Jisung whispered, wanting to know what happened to Minho’s feelings even if the answer would hurt Jisung in the end. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Minho sighed. “I guess I just didn’t want to keep waiting because I never knew if you _actually_ reciprocated anything or if I was just letting other people’s comments about us get into my head.” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah. But that’s that, I guess.”

And then: “You should’ve told me earlier,” Jisung breathed out into their living room—still, quiet, and unmoving.

“What difference does it make?” Minho chuckled. “I’ll admit that I used to be a lot more reckless with my feelings, but if I had actually confessed that one time, then maybe we would’ve had a run at it for a little while, but then we might’ve broken up and ruined the group dynamic. Or, you would’ve been weirded out and we would’ve ruined the group dynamic anyway.”

 _No,_ Jisung wanted to scream, because all of the implications of Minho’s words were raining down on him. He wanted to yell, to say that it wasn’t fair that Minho had held these feelings for so many years, believing that Jisung didn’t reciprocate. _No,_ because it would’ve made _all_ the difference had Jisung known sooner, because maybe they could’ve had something beautiful together. Maybe they already had something beautiful together, and all it needed was another chance at reignition. Because he had been living in this apartment building for the past year, assuming that Minho and him were slowly but surely building a life together, that their feelings didn’t need words because there was always something unspoken between them. 

Jisung began to laugh, a bittersweet laugh, because of how incredibly ironic everything was panning out. Moments ago, he had just been pointing in amusement at the characters on the screen who couldn’t get their shit together because of a pitiful misunderstanding. Now, he was who he had been making a mockery of. Jisung and Minho could have been direct copy and paste from the drama, with their timing so untimely. 

The laughing eventually transformed into sobs, tears streaming down his face as he hiccuped through each breath. It was too much to handle, because Minho didn’t love him anymore. Or he did, and Jisung knew that he did, but he didn’t love him in the way that Jisung so desperately wanted him to. 

But Jisung had always been a crier, so Minho never suspected anything to be wrong.

“Come on,” Minho said, playfully nudging Jisung’s shoulder with his own. “The drama wasn’t _that_ sad. And we can finish it later, but you know these things always have a happy ending.”

Jisung sniffled, wiping his tears with the sleeve of his shirt, not minding how disgusting it was because it felt as though his heart had been stabbed into oblivion, a million pieces shattered on the ground.

“Yeah, the drama,” Jisung coughed. “Right.”

They watched the rest of the show, and lo and behold, Minho had been correct about the ending. The two characters, after a lengthy conversation with a plethora of tears and screaming, finally welcomed each other into the other’s warm embrace. The show had ended with a passionate kiss, and Jisung hadn’t bothered to will his tears away, drops still flowing freely from his eyes.

“I love you, hyung,” he muttered into Minho’s neck, craving his warmth and pretending—just this once—that it was reciprocated. 

“Is this drama seriously making you that emotional?” Minho shook his head with a smirk on his face. “But I love you too, yeah? Let’s get you to bed.”

Minho said the words _I love you_ like they were second nature, but once a tipsy Jisung had been carried and tucked into the covers, his crying only became more hysterical, his breathing labored.

Because the two characters had gotten their happy ending. Jisung hadn’t.

But he still sits here, in this restaurant with an overly romantic aura, enough to make Jisung want to reel in disgust. With Minho sitting on the other side, he softens his frown because even if this isn’t his desired outcome, Minho doesn’t deserve an attitude from him. Not when he had been excited beyond belief to introduce Jisung to someone important, because Minho was never one to take any of his relationships—his friendships, his family, his romantic encounters—lightly. He was introducing Jisung to his boyfriend.

Right...his _boyfriend._

Minho’s boyfriend—Donghyun, if he can recall the name correctly—was a dancer at the studio Minho worked at. They had developed a friendly rapport, meshing together quite well, before Minho had asked Donghyun on a date. After dating for four months, Jisung would be meeting him for the first time.

At 5:35 p.m., Donghyun saunters into the restaurant, catching sight of Minho and waving. Minho waves back, a dazzling smile spanning across his face, the same one that used to be reserved for Jisung and Jisung only. Jisung has never gotten tired of seeing it, but seeing how it’s no longer _just for him_ makes his stomach twist in knots of jealousy. 

His first impression of Donghyun is honestly positive. He is tall, taller than both Minho and Jisung, perhaps even slightly taller than Hyunjin. He is fashionable, wearing an all black outfit while his hair is styled neatly and off of his face. He is good-looking as well—Jisung has to admit—a classic handsome face, narrow eyes, and an athletic build. 

Most of all, he is nothing like Jisung.

“Hi,” Donghyun says, and Jisung rises to his feet. They both bow before sitting down again, with Jisung sipping on his wine glass filled with sparkling water (alcohol would not be on his side tonight). “I’ve heard a lot about you, Jisung-ssi.”

“Oh, you don’t need to be so formal,” Jisung says. He falters on his next words. “And I’ve heard a lot about… you too.’”

“All good things, I hope,” Donghyun flashes him a smile. Minho swats him on the arm, telling him to shush. 

Jisung wants to say _yes, too many good things that I did not care to listen to._ But instead, he bites his tongue and smiles back. 

Donghyun turns out to be a fun person, who knows how to carry a conversation and compliment Jisung beyond belief: on his rapping, on his singing, even on the new songs he’s produced within the past year (that he listened to courtesy of Minho.) He returns Minho’s banter with equal fervor and _more,_ like Jisung isn’t there and watching in on their every move, listening in on their every word. In a different circumstance, Jisung would have liked to believe that he and Donghyun would get along quite nicely, even be friendly or friends. But this isn’t a different circumstance, so he just sits patiently and listens. 

“And it was so nice meeting you, Jisung-hyung,” Donghyun says once the date has ended. Jisung nods and returns the sentiment. Then, Minho gives Donghyun a peck of a kiss, walking him to the front door of the restaurant, while Jisung lets out a heavy sigh. 

“So, what’d you think about him?” Minho asks once he returns, shuffling back into his seat.

“He’s nice,” Jisung responds truthfully. “You deserve to be happy, hyung.”

Minho beams, and Jisung’s heart does another tumble. “You do too, you know? Maybe next time, _I’ll_ be meeting the lucky person.”

With a weak resolve, Jisung nods at Minho. He’s selfish, knows he can’t keep wishing for Minho, to keep waiting day after day for nothing.

But he’ll allow himself to wish once more, just this last time. 

That maybe someday, it will be less of an _I love you,_ and more of an _I’m in love with you._

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for making it to the end! if you enjoyed, i'd love if you'd leave kudos or comments. i always welcome any thoughts!


End file.
